Regarding Dean (Deleted Scenes)
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Deleted scenes for 12.11. Three little glimpses into the good and bad ways Dean's forgetfulness impacted our favorite pair of brothers.
1. Part 1 To Live It All Again

REGARDING DEAN (DELETED SCENES)

Part 1.

TO LIVE IT ALL AGAIN

"Sam...Sammy?" The hesitance in his brother's tone shatters Sam's heart. If there's anything his brother should never be unsure about, it should be that nickname. The only name of endearment Sam has ever accepted from anyone, and of course it was Dean's.

"Yes Dean?" He's careful to include Dean's name in case he's forgotten.

"I can't sleep..."

Sam swallows, looking up from the laptop across the darkened room to where Dean's green eyes shine at him through the dark.

"You listen to music sometimes, wanna try that?" He asks, reaching into his laptop bag to retrieve the earbuds he'd put there before they'd left home, the ones Dean had forgotten even normal. He smiles fondly as Dean takes them and stares at them quizzically while Sam is trying to find a playlist that matches his brother's tastes on his phone.

"Thanks for the white spaghetti, I guess?" Dean quips, the cords stringing from finger to finger in a tangled mess.

Sam laughs exasperatedly, "Give 'em here." He untangles the earbuds as Dean watches with wide eyes and rolls over on his side facing Sam.

Sam plugs the small piece into his phone, hits play, "Here ya go," he says to Dean, holding out the two small ear pieces, "Put these in your ears."

Dean looks doubtful and sends the white headphones a dirty look before slipping them into his ears. Sam chuckles at the awed look that breaks over his brother's face. He doubts Dean even remembers he has a music preference but lucky for Sam he knows his brother in and out. Dean is asleep within minutes of some of the calmer ballads of Led Zeppelin and Metallica.

Sam lets out a deep sigh. Hands brushing hair back from his face and scrubbing down over his eyes and cheeks exhaustedly. His body is running high with nerves and adrenaline but he's falling fast. He knows he can't sleep, knows Dean is all too of capable of slipping out of the room without Sam even stirring in his sleep. He's done it enough times before.

He flops down across the end of his bed on his stomach and turns on the tv, volume way down. Dean smacks his lips and frowns, Sam waits for him to wake up and for more questions and comments that cut through his heart like a knife. Things Dean should remember, things that make Dean who he is as well as Sam.

Times that shaped both Sam and Dean into who they are because they went through it together and now they were losing that. Or he was. Dean was losing it, but he didn't even realize it. And if Sam had entertained the thought of letting Dean enjoy this forgetfulness in some deep dark place before. He stopped right then. He owed it to Dean for his brother to remember everything they'd done and been through. To remember everything Sam had done for him good or bad. To remember everything Dean had done for Sam...Dean deserved to know how good he was.

And sure the bad was mixed with the good, but that was a life rule. Good times got you through the bad ones...even if the bad times are really really bad. Nightmares were chased away by memories soft and light barely there tip toeing across your conscious of better days and times...reminds you of the reason your fighting. The reason your going through all this bad right now.

And regardless how bad the bad, Dean deserved to have that. And it wasn't Sam's place to take that from him.

He huffs a breath and buries his face in the musty mattress. He hated this. He hated not being at home, in the bunker when they're this vulnerable, when Dean is this vulnerable. Eighty percent of Sam's peace of mind when it came to Dean was the fact that his brother could handle himself like a trained assassin...now his body is thrumming with constant alertness, a need to have Dean within his line of sight at all times.

And okay he might be creepy but Dean's asleep in front of him and his dark form on the bed interrupts Sam's view of the tv and he wouldn't have it any other way. Nothing is going to keep him awake like the concern for his brother. Sam sighs thinking back over Dean the past few hours.

It reminds him a lot of how Dean used to be. The kid who came and practically drug him out of Stanford. All confidence and snark, with a lovable, charming side that didn't apply to Sam...but he loved Dean anyways. Because there was something Dean always did that made Sam feel special, did that made him special. It was behavior only Sam got, and everyone around them saw it too. The way Dean sidled up to him when he was unsure, the way he looked to Sam when something appealed to his sense of humor, the way he angled his body in front of his little brother when he was insulted, threatened or if Dean simply had a gut feeling.

These were natural responses to Dean. He did them with or without memory. But there were other things Sam was already missing. Like the way Dean avoided dogs,(which Sam was highly appreciative of, hell hounds had permanently scarred both of them) or how Dean always turn on the air or rolled down Baby's windows because they both got severely claustrophobic in closed spaces. (Thank you to captivity in hell and now some creepy military facility.)

Or that Sam couldn't have waffles with whipped cream because he'd be sick, and then Dean would be stuck with him in the car. Or that Cas was out looking for Lucifer's baby mama and he would be all concerned about that...seriously his Dean would be stressing out big time over Cas out there on his own.

It's not that he wants Dean stressed, or scared, or claustrophobic it's just he wants Dean to be Dean. He loves all those frustrating little quirks that more often then not drive him absolutely crazy but he wouldn't have Dean without them. He loves him all the way around, every part, every scar and defect, every reminder of the wrong Sam's done, because Dean is also the reminder of the good he's done.

He sighs again, chin propped up on the back of his hand. His eyes jump to Dean when his brother stirs, is surprised to find his face twisted in pain. His heart jumps into his mouth and he's kneeling beside Dean in a second, a hand wrapped tight around one of his wrists. Unconscious insurance that his brother isn't going anywhere, physically or through death. His brother is not leaving him this way.

He watches the muscles in Dean's arms chord and can feel the tension rising in his brother's body and god, the fear in his face Sam is actually kind of frightened by it himself. It's not until he's watching silent tears make tracks down his brother's freckled face that he decides it's time to wake up.

He grabs onto Dean's biceps and gives him a gentle, but firm shake.

"Dean? Dean, need to wake up, buddy."

Dean grunts and tries to turn away from Sam even as the dream he's having is obviously intensifying, his face scrunching up in pain and defense. Sam shakes him again and is shocked when Dean jerks himself away from him, curls in on himself still asleep shaking, tears still trickling down his face.

"Sammy," he mumbles through tear-wet lips, "Please stop, Sammy..."

And ohhhkay, Sam's definitely had enough of this. He flips Dean onto his back with one hand on his shoulder and shakes him, hard.

"Dean, wake up," he tries to demand, but it come out more like a plea.

Dean comes back to the waking world with a sobbing breath. His hands reach desperately in front of him and his fingers immediately tangle in Sam's shirts. His eyes are wild and shiny in the dark with his tears, his breaths punching in and out of his chest and Sam realizes he's probably hyperventilating.

"Dean, hey Dean," he says softy. One hand going to grab one of Dean's in his shirt and the other sliding up to cradle the side of his distressed brother's face, his thumb sweeping under his eyes to catch the telltale wetness. "It's okay, I'm right here, it's okay...you're okay."

Dean is silent, his breaths just rasping roughly from his mouth, his wide eyes are locked on Sam's face, searching for something. Finally his posture collapses and he allows Sam to pull him close, tears starting again, big ugly scared ones that only compliment the trembles wracking through him. Sam feels frustrated and angry tears in his own eyes at the unfairness of the situation as he guides Dean's head to rest on his shoulder with a hand on the back of his head. How could this happen to Dean of all people?

Sam feels the exact moment his brother relaxes into his comfort, moves his head to hide his eyes against Sam's collar. The younger Winchester finally allows himself to breathe again. He sighs into Dean's hair, as he feels Dean's own damp breaths hit the thin material of his t-shirt.

"Dean." He says softly, and his brother goes still, minute hesitance of 'is that me?' And then Dean relaxes and Sam lets his hand fall from the back of his head down his spine. Leaves a gentle, reassuring rub on his arm.

"You okay? Just a bad dream, you know."

Dean shivers and Sam lets him go when he pushes away. Sam is still kneeling in front of him on the floor, Dean looks unsure and wraps his arms around himself looks down and away at the floor.

"S, Sammy?" He asks again. And there's no heart break for Sam this time, only joy that Dean still remembers him.

"Yeah, I'm right here." Sam urges softly, not letting go of the hand that's still hanging onto his shirt, Dean's still scared and unsure, still holding tight, anchored to the one thing he's sure of.

"It was kind of like a dream I guess..." Dean mumbles, his other hand rubbing sleep and tears from his eyes, he looks confused and frightened and Sam really just wants to hold him again. "You...weren't you and you were hitting me Sammy, again and again..." Sam can't breathe as Dean face contorts with sadness and anguish like his heart is breaking over and over again... "And you wouldn't stop but...I couldn't just leave you." He breaks off trying to explain and almost like the dream is already slipping from his mind.

He looks at Sam for the first time and Sam hurries to wipe away the tear that has escaped his eyes. Dean face softens, but the confused wrinkles in his forehead don't leave, he cocks his head to one side.

"Did I remember something, Sammy?" He asks quietly, eyes like green embers, glowing and beautiful, gazing down at Sam.

Sam swallows around the lump in his throat, chokes around it. "Yeah, yeah you did Dean." And how unfair is this? How could this happen to Dean of all people? Now he's subjected to living it all again?

Sam's never seen Dean as hostile to anyone as he was to Lucifer, never seen such unadulterated hate than that which Dean has for the devil. And while that's understandable since Lucifer had messed with both Cas and his brother Sam can't help but feel it has something to do with the brutal beating Dean and taken without lifting a finger from his little brother.

He can remember that day so clear, how Lucifer let him see it all, but he was powerless to do anything. Remembers how it felt the bones snapping and turning to ash under his fists, bloody flesh swelling up and hiding green eyes from view and god, all he wanted was to see those eyes, all he wanted was for the owner of those eyes to survive.

He remembers the white hot rage that had flooded him as he realized Lucifer was about to end his brother, the reason that he'd done all this. It was in that moment that Sam Winchester had, without any restraint, reached deep inside himself and used every single drop of darkness and strength in his soul to push Lucifer down and away.

No matter the cost Dean Winchester must live to fight another day.

Sam blinks, shaking himself from the memory. Dean's green eyes look to him now for guidance, confused and hurt, and Sam shivers knowing Dean had just relived that. The worst day of both their lives he feels pretty certain. And he'd had to live it again, live it again as a first time. The pain, the betrayal the confusion, the begging..."fight him Sam." The faith, the loyalty, "I'm not leaving you Sammy, you hear me?"

And he's sure, he's more sure than he's ever been. Dean Winchester must live to fight another day. But today it's Sam that has to fight. Has to fight for his brother. He urges Dean back down onto the pillow grabs the blanket from his bed and spreads it over his brother. Dean still refuses to release his hand, and Sam wouldn't have it any other way. He sits with his back against the bed, head laid back on the mattress touching Dean's side.

Dean turns towards him, head slipping down the pillow and to the mattress to where his eyes can see Sam's face. His arm slips off the edge and their hands stay joined in the air, both holding tighter than necessary...but it's unconscious, it's just right...way too much practice. Dean slips back off to sleep as soon as Sam looks back at him one last time. Their eyes connecting and even though Dean doesn't really know him anymore, their souls connect and they sigh with a peaceful sense of content and belonging.

Sam figures Dean had already forgotten the dream, already forgotten that fateful day once again. And it's all Sam can do to sit there and wait and pray that when Dean wakes up he can remember that the hand he holds so tight and precious belongs to his _Sammy_.

...tbc

Hope you enjoy! Plz review! ;);)

Basically over the next few days I'm just going to be sharing all the sweet little scenes I wish were canon, lol. See u guys soon.


	2. Part 2 The Toothbrush

Part 2.

THE TOOTHBRUSH

"What the hell is this?"

Sam looks up at his brother's light but confused tones. He's holding his toothbrush running the bad of his thumb over the prickly bristles with an awestruck expression on his face. Sam stifles his laugh but doesn't quite manage to hide the grin splitting his face.

"That's your toothbrush, Dean, you put some toothpaste on it and then you scrub your teeth with it."

"Oh, this stuff?" Dean asks unconcerned, holding up a wrinkled tube of toothpaste. "Tasted like candy, minty candy...but still candy."

Dean!" Sam exclaims, jerking the tube from him, "You can't eat this stuff, its bad for your stomach, jesus, what else have you been doing in there?" He peers into the bathroom, Dean joins him in the door.

Sam spots Dean's bag in the floor the contents spread all around. Beside him Dean shrugs.

"I don't know what most of that stuff is, but the toothpaste tasted good so..."

Sam lets loose a long suffering sigh and rolls his eyes. "Dean, don't eat anything else unless you ask me first okay?"

A frown mars Dean's forehead and he nods, lips blooming into a pout.

"Why don't you clean all this up while I finish up?"

Dean sighs and shoots Sam a bored, dirty look and turns his back, clearly ignoring him, as if he knows Sam isn't anywhere near to an answer let alone being finished. Sam sighs too, fingers running through his hair and heart aching. He's no good at this, they're no good at this.

They each have their rolls and places, they live their lives as one unit. Each of them does their part, helps look after each other. Dean needs him more than usual, he can't afford to get lost in research right now. Sam's shoulders hunch in as he looks from his seat to where Dean is throwing everything back into his bag frustratedly.

Dean needs him right now, needs his reassurance and strength.

He watches as Dean throws the packed bag on the end of his mattress and huffs as he kicks the bed frame before sitting down on it. Elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced together...Sam can feel the nervous tension radiating off him, the fear and the worry.

And Sam is feeling that too, God it's terrifying. And he can't get past the thought that Dean is already on his way to leaving him, can see it in his brother's eyes when he looks at Sam. Takes Dean a split second to remember who he is. And the only way Sam knows how to deal and to help is to research, for him the answers are always in the books, in the words.

Dean's the doer, and the shooter...the one who burns with righteous anger and the one who comforts and reads fear and discomfort in between the lines. Sam feels absolutely useless and miserable as he watches the uncertainty rip through Dean, the way this whole situation is stripping him of his identity and confidence. Why is everything so hard for them? He wonders as he wracks his mind for ways to distract Dean from his forgetfulness and for himself to still get some work done.

Dean pushes up from the bed and shuffles over to Sam, leans against his chair.

"What're you doin'?" He asks, right in Sam's ear.

Sam swipes at him over his shoulder and Dean grins mischievously, easily dodging him. Sam breaks into a reluctant smile at Dean's smug look, happy over distracting him. "I'm trying to find a way to help you Dean, if you'd let me work."

Dean peers at the computer screen, "What does it say?" He asks, pointing to some Latin Sam was currently reading off the laptop. Sam bites the inside of his mouth ignoring the pang of anxiety that stabs him. If Dean had forgotten how to read Latin, English wasn't far behind.

He rubs hands down his face, "Says you're screwed." He answers shortly.

Dean's steps away from Sam body language turning on the defensive and Sam's stomach gives a sour twist. However there's an easy smile on Dean's lips as he turns back towards his brother and seats himself at the small table across from Sam.

"Well, from what you tell me...that's characteristic of my whole life."

"Don't make a joke out of it Dean," Sam says back, "You're dying."

Dean cocks his head to one side, and Sam watches transfixed as confused sorrow writes itself all over his face, "Its kind of hard to care about dying when I can't even remember what it is to live." He says simply, as if dying and not caring was something he and Sam talked about every day. As if the mere thought didn't tear out little pieces of Sam's sanity.

And it's too much God, Sam can't do this. They've conquered unimaginable odds to stay together and now Dean will just roll over because he can't remember why he should fight on. And he's right here. Sam's right here.

His soul is crying out in the bittersweetest of agonies he's ever felt. _Dean, I'm right here, I'm your reason, never left, please don't give up on us..._

Dean doesn't even remember how much Sam needs him in order to live, to breathe, to think...doesn't remember the catastrophic consequences of his death. Doesn't see Sam tailspinning, drinking demon blood, or drowning himself in normality to bury his purposeless miserable existence.

Dean's words insight the deepest of panics inside Sam. He stands up fast, knocking his chair over, making Dean wince and jerk back quickly, clearly intimidated by the unfamiliar 'bigness' of Sam upset and towering with rage and desperation. He barely sees Dean while the words swirl in his mind.

"I'm right here, Dean." He says shakily, looking down at his brother. "I'm right here." And Dean doesn't get it, doesn't hear the 'I'm right here, your reason is right here.' He's too busy watching Sam with big eyes, tense and prepared to jump up and run like a scared animal and it doesn't help the situation that Sam can't wrap his mind around that fact that Dean feels threatened by him. _By him._

"I can see you." Dean says standing too, angling himself away from Sam, eyes wide and wary on him.

Sam rolls his eyes, "Dean," he says, deceivingly calm. "You can't just talk about dying like that."

"Oh really?" Dean asks, and god Sam can hear that angry, peevish tone bleeding through and it feels _good_ , he wants Dean to fight back...this hurts way too much to just simply live through it with tender words and hugs and last goodbyes.

"Well, the last time I looked I was the one dying, Sam!"

"Oh, so you CAN remember that?!"

Dean's face goes carefully blank and Sam feels like he's been sucker punched. Dean turns away from him, "We don't even know that for sure." He says and that's it. He walks away and sits on the far edge of the bed, his back to Sam.

Wetness stings Sam's overtired eyes, panic along with furious rage at himself fills his heart so full he feels as if everything's about to overflow and sweep Dean and he away in its current. Probably not too far from the truth. Sam fists his hands tightly, closes his eyes taking a deep breath. No matter how hard this is for Sam, it's unexplainable harder for Dean. He's hit with the thought hard, and is sitting on the bed beside Dean before he blinks again.

Dean eyes are closed, a little frown between his eyebrows, his body tight with tension, almost like he's in pain. Sam takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry Dean," he nearly whispers and shuts his own eyes tight against the unfairness of this situation, the way he can't control anything, the way he apparently can't help Dean, can't save him, can't even be sympathetic or comforting.

"I just, I need you to care, you have to care, Dean."

He's given no response and his eyes open slowly. Dean's still sitting the way he was before, frozen there. His eyes move restlessly under his lids, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. Fear coils itself cold and strong around Sam's heart.

"Dean." Sam says, shaking him, "Dean c'mon."

Dean jerks towards Sam's voice and then goes limp. Sam recognizes it as the spell probably progressing farther, and even as his confusion and helplessness grows he guides Dean back to lay on the bed. His brother's body goes easily, Sam's hand under his head keeps it from flopping backwards awkwardly on his neck.

Lashes brush white, freckled cheeks hiding unique, sparkling emeralds and Sam watches him with wide eyes. His heartbeat booming in his temples, but Sam doesn't even know he's got a headache. One of his hands hold one of Dean's tightly, the fingers of the other pressed against his pulse point on that same hand counting, measuring, making sure Dean's life is still safe and sound, making sure it's only memory slipping away...and how messed up is that?

Two minutes later Dean smacks his lips and tosses his head towards the light of the room. His eyes squint while shut and then his lashes flutter as he opens them. Sam lets out a breath and drops Dean's hand, before his brother notices.

"S'mmy?" Dean asks blearily. And Sam sighs in relief down to his very soul.

"Yeah, I'm here." He offers Dean his hand, and Dean takes it, lets Sam pull him up into a sitting position. "What do you remember?" He asks next.

Dean shrugs, looks tired and worn. He can't remember their fight, Sam can tell, but he looks emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted. "I remember I can't remember?" He says hesitantly, asking more than anything. Sam gives him a reassuring smile.

"...and I remember you. I remember you." Dean asserts firmly, looks up and meets Sam's gaze, eyes genuine and glistening. _"I remember that that's important."_

Sam swallows hard, looks down and away. "I'm working on it, gonna fix this Dean..." he breaks off when his voice does, this was not a time for a chick flick moment even Sam could see that.

"Yeah, I know." Dean says, sending him a bright grin and then frowns adorably. "Why does my mouth feel so funny?"

Sam fondly rolls his eyes at him, grabs the twisted tube of toothpaste out of Dean's bag and sticks it safely in his own.

Dean peers into the bag curiously, "This mine?"

"Yep," Sam pops the p and sits back in his chair, a little winded by the turn of events in the last fifteen minutes...emotionally he's barely holding on...but he's holding on for Dean.

"What the hell is this?" Sam looks up to find Dean staring quizzically at his toothbrush and Sam just laughs, rolling his eyes as Dean runs his fingers over the bristles with an awed expression on his face.

"Just don't eat the toothpaste, okay?"

...tbc

Hope you guys enjoy! Lemme know with a review!? ;);)


	3. Part 3 Dean's Firsts

This is the last chapter strictly for cuteness, and an Impala moment ;)

Part 3.

DEAN'S FIRSTS

"Dean."

"What?"

"What's that noise?"

"My stomach, I think."

"When's the last time you ate?"

"Like I remember," Dean rolls his eyes.

"Right." Sam deadpans, sighing and getting up from the small, rickety table. "Let's go grab something."

Dean brightens at that, "You mean we actually get to leave this room?"

Sam laughs, "Yeah, we actually get to leave the room...Dean, wait!" He grabs his wallet and Dean's coat and hurries after Dean who has already disappeared out the door. Apparently his brother was not a fan of Sam's company.

He swings the room door shut behind him, takes a deep breath of relief when he sees that Dean hasn't gone far. His older brother stands by the impala, hands in his pockets, looks back at Sam with a besmooched expression and whistles with a flirty look in his eye.

Sam just laughs and shakes his head, "You like?"

"Pfft," Dean laughs, "Yeah! So gorgeous." He reaches tentatively to touch her sleek side.

"Wonder whose she is?" Sam says out loud, watching Dean with a fond expression.

"Lucky bastard," Dean growls, jerks his hand back and looks over his shoulder nervously like he's scared of getting caught.

Sam holds up the silver keys hanging off his finger. And Dean looks at him confused for a second, and then realization breaks over his face.

"No."

"Oh yeah."

Dean looks back to the impala, an overjoyed look on his face, a kind of awed glow in his eyes. Sam thinks this has got to be the same exact look Dean wore when John gave him baby all those ages ago. Felt like lifetimes.

Dean rubs his hands together, "I don't know about you, but from what I've seen I'm a pretty bad ass son of a bitch."

Sam snorts, "Whatever. Get in."

"Uhm," Dean says, not moving an inch. "I'm driving."

"Forget it." Sam says, and lowers himself into the driver's seat. "Trust me, you're a danger to the car, even my driving is better than yours," he says when Dean sits moodily in the passenger's seat.

"Whatever," Dean pouts, "Just hurry up, I'm hungry."

"You wouldn't even know your were hungry if I hadn't said anything." Sam shoots back. "Ow, that hurt! What was that for?!" He asks outraged when Dean slaps his arm hard.

"For being a little bitch, don't be such a baby. Owwww," he draws out a whining tone, "That hurt Sammy."

Sam, somewhat childishly he'll admit even though he's supposed to be acting as resident adult right now, slaps Dean back. "Stop being such a jerk then."

Dean rather unexpectedly giggles and Sam looks at him when he doesn't get a sharp, witty retort. "What?" He asks, a reluctant smile breaking over his face with the merriment stretching across Dean's.

"Bitch and jerk...that should be like, a thing."

Sam just laughs and shakes his head, doesn't give himself time to feel sadness. "It is." He says to Dean with an arched eyebrow and fond look on his face.

"Right," Dean says sunnily, "Of course I've thought of that before." Sam merely rolls his eyes as he pulls into a decent looking restaurant parking lot. (Definintely not the one with 'Larry'.) Dean is looking at everything with big, new eyes and Sam just really really hopes he's not in for a disappointment. This world wasn't that great after all.

Sam gets out and sighs, Dean is still looking out his window in astonishment. "Dean, c'mon." He taps on Baby's hood when he gets to Dean's side and opens the door, "C'mon got to go inside for food."

Dean does as he is told, climbs out and gives Sam a sunny smile. Sam holds up his jacket and Dean slips it on.

"Come to think of it I am a little cold." He says, and Sam grabs onto the back of his jacket and uses it to steer Dean into the restaurant and to a table. Sam orders for Dean, burger and fries, since his brother is too busy staring at the flatscreen tv in the corner of the room with bug eyes.

Dean's eyes go up to Sam's with amazement as their food arrives, and Sam just silently laughs as he pushes Dean's coke towards him. He tears the paper from the straw and stick it in his cup as Dean looks at his burger with uncertainty written over his face.

"What is this?" He asks, lifting the top bun from off the sandwich and peering at it quizzically.

"It's a burger, your favorite, eat up." Sam mumbles through his mouthful of a chicken sandwich, he was hungry too once he took the time to notice.

"Are you sure?" Dean asks, trying to pick up the huge burger, but seemingly adverse to the ketchup and mayo oozing down the sides.

"Oh I'm sure." Sam answers, thinking of every hour, ever day, every year he's spent listening to Dean rage about burgers.

"If you say so," Dean huffs, finally taking a bite. When he gets his first taste, his face is priceless to the least. "Oh my god," he says, under his breath looking down at the burger with HUGE eyes. "THIS has totally got to be my favorite."

Sam laughs, "See, I told you."

Dean unknowingly beats his own record for how quickly he can devour a burger. Sam watches in disgusted amazement and Dean burps in contentment, sucking on his straw eyes still flitting from person to person, sight to sight...everything new and shiny and good to him.

"You want some desert?" Sam asks, after a minute.

"Desert?" Dean says back, obviously the word doesn't ring a bell.

"Sweet, whipped cream, fruit, sugar, pie, ice cream, donuts..."

Dean shrugs, "Well I trust you Sammy, the burger was a-okay." He holds up his finger accordingly and Sam huffs a laugh at him and motions for their waitress. She comes over and Sam orders a slice of apple pie and ice cream for Dean, and a plain slice of blueberry for himself. Sue him, some of Dean's less gross habits were catching, and pie was definitely one of them.

When the waitress places a gigantic piece of apple pie with melting ice cream pooling around it in front of Dean Sam swears his eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. His brother sends him a questioning look and Sam nods back at him. _Dig in_.

Sam takes a bite of his own, savors the warmth and the tangy tartness of berries with the sweetness of the filling and pastry. He closes his eyes and lets the familiar taste wash over him in his small comfort. Imagines his Dean, reaching across the table and stealing a bite of blueberry even though he's more than sure Dean prefers apple, his big brother is just that greedy when it comes to pie. The picture makes Sam smile.

"Oh. My. God."

His small moment of peace is broken apart by Dean's rather robust exclamation, catches a few other patrons of the place staring at them. He ignores them, gives Dean an indulgent smile. His brother is staring at Sam with ice cream all over his lips, and still shoveling pie into his mouth.

"Are you god?" He asks Sam, cheekishly, and Sam just laughs. "You know all the good stuff," he mumbles through a huge mouthful.

"No," Sam says softly, "I just know you."

And it might be a terrible, awful thing but Sam is thankful for this moment, it feels good. It feels like he's repaying Dean some how. Repaying him for bottles warmed up and held for him by small hands. Equally small arms stretched out to catch him while he learns to walk. Time and effort spent teaching Sam to read, his colors...teaching him to believe in himself. Teaching Sam that he can do and be anything he wants. Teaching Sam the things that will one day result in Sam leaving him.

And now Sam shows him back, all the little, lovely secrets of this world. Pie and burgers and Baby, and then the little secrets that are only theirs. Brushes against each other, glances when there's an inside joke, or when they know someone is lying to them.

Sam sighs pushing back from his meal, filled even fuller with relief by the serene, happiness on Dean's face. And his soul is soothed by the familiarity of Dean reaching across the table with his fork and stealing a bite of pie from Sam's plate and then 'cuteing' his way out of Sam's usual rebuke with bright green eyes turned up with a mischievous grin that leaves wrinkles dancing over his face.

Sam just sighs and wipes his mouth with his napkin one last time before throwing it in his plate and stacking their used dishes before he counts out a tip and leaves it folded neatly under his empty glass. Dean watches him incredulously.

"What?" He asks.

"Could you be any more of a little bitch?" Dean snarks, unimpressed.

Dean has no idea what he's said, doesn't remember he's said something that's a 'thing' just fondly insults Sam and thinks nothing of it. Doesn't even realize the significance that he hasn't forgotten Sam, hasn't forgotten that he's dependent on Sam right now...hasn't forgotten that Sam is all he has. But it's everything to Sam right now. Hope spreads through his chest like a warm wave and he chokes out around the lump in his throat...

"Jerk."

...the end.

Last part! PLZ REVIEW!

(A proper tag back at the bunker coming soon;)


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